Here, this is my voice box. Please be careful with it because I only have one, its not as loud as yours, and sometimes it cracks when I get nervous,
but for only three minutes of your time and the part of your mouth where it turns up at the end, its yours.

I've always known you thought of this world like a trading post. That each person you meet is absentmindedly trying to bargain away your most important parts,
every piece of gold and silver you have to offer, every wink of eyelash, ever giggle
As if we are untouched, untarnished miracle,
but a rarity waiting to be stolen.  

This life, you say, won't always just give you what you want.

It is all a game of operation that you are so good at.
You know exactly how to pull away people's most important parts without compromising your own.
Giving crocodile tears and counterfeit laughter for footsteps to walk in time with yours.

You guarded your heart like a bird in a cage,
so when it stopped singing, you began handing out ribs you thought were expendable like housewarming gifts in hopes a little company would bring its song back to life
Only I think someone stole it.

Because even though no buzzer went off, you seem to be looking for something to fill that space,
something like someone else's passions, something like power,
Something that is big enough to push out your chest like the way used to, when you still believed that people were worth more than the sum of the parts the could afford to give you.

Now you're all barter and a handshake with fingers crossed.
All swindle, all smooth talk, all scam
and no fairness.

But I am not a pawn shop.

There are things in this world I will forsake for the right deal:
the blush in my cheeks for an extra set of hands,
the grace in my step for the memories of dancing,
lend me your tenderest glance and I will give you every grown up tooth you can see when I laugh
But we are not made of infinity.
You ask for my lips to shape your favourite words
But never my eyes or my shoes to stand from my point of view.
You say their is a beast in my heart, you can see its outline in my jaw,
You offer your tongue to use as a whip
train it not to whisper or sing or beat out of time like yours.
Like the figure eights it creates in the rhythm I dance to were eternal.

I cannot afford to trade this.

I knew a boy who sacrificed his lungs for some peace of mind, and lost both.
I've seen girls who traded in liver and saline for a kiss that they would never be able to call their own
I have watched you chip off your vertebrae one by one, hand out pieces of your spine as currency to keep people off your back.
But I know when something is worth more than the sum of what you are willing to give me.

If you want me to tame the flutter of my heart,
Best bottle up your tears and make room for my own,
or else give me a reason to smile.